


we're live in three... two... one!

by InvadingThoughts



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bad Flirting, Bets & Wagers, Biting, Crushes, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Office AU/No AU, Pining, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sexual Content, Swearing, biting kink, off topic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-10-07 18:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvadingThoughts/pseuds/InvadingThoughts
Summary: He’s on Off Topic. He’s way too drunk. He’s touched Michael five times in the last two minutes.Thinking about it now, he really should have sat next to Gavin instead; should have positioned himself out of arm's reach so that he could have avoided all of this. He should have, but it's a little too late now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not quite sure about this fic, so I've decided to post the first half just so I can see what you guys think! If you guys like it and want more, then I’ll start writing the second part; but if not, then we’ll just forget about this whole thing. So let me know what you think because I need to know if I should continue this!

He’s on Off Topic. He’s way too drunk. He’s touched Michael five times in the last two minutes.

Thinking about it now, he _really_ should have sat next to Gavin instead; should have positioned himself out of arm's reach so that he could have avoided all of this. He should have, but it's a little too late now. He doesn’t have the option to stand up and shuffle in beside Ryan and Gavin anymore since that would draw attention to him and that’s the _last_ thing he wants.

> _He bumps his shoulder against Michael’s._
> 
> _Six._

There's a shot glass sitting in front of him. Michael keeps refilling it every time he finishes a shot, and yes, he _knows_ he should just ignore it; but if he leaves it long enough, Michael will nudge it at him and mumble, “ _C’mon, let's do it together Lil J,_ ” and honestly, Jeremy is weak against Michael’s pleading. So he’s lost count of how many shots he’s had since the podcast started, not that he was really counting to begin with, but it's definitely way too many.

“Alright so, a million dollars _but_ … every time you have a sexual thought about someone, you have to tell them that thought.”

Ryan scrunches up his nose. “C-can I whisper it to them, or do I have to say it out loud?”

“Uh, whichever way you prefer, you just have to tell them.”

“Hmm… I don’t think if I could fucking do that.”

Gavin grins into his glass. “You have a lot of dirty thoughts about random strangers, Ryan?”

“I’d say it's a perfectly normal amount-”

> _Michael rests a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, shaking him slightly._
> 
> _Seven._

“Jeremy, what about you Lil J? Would you take it?” Michael asks, completely disregarding Gavin and Ryan’s discussion. He watches him with a hooded stare, eyes half-lidded and slightly bloodshot and it's obvious that Jeremy’s _not_ the only one who’s currently drunk.

Would he take the million dollars?

No. _Fuck no_.

Because that would mean telling Michael every single little thought that runs through his mind when he catches sight of the other man. When Michael comes in with a beanie and a grin as bright as the sun. When he chews on his bottom lip when he gets frustrated. When he posts a selfie on Twitter after a workout. When he runs his fingers through his hair.

Jeremy would be Fucked.

“Nah, I’d rather keep my sexual fantasies to myself, thanks,” he replies, “don’t need no one else knowing what I like in the bedroom _unless_ they’re in there with me.” He slurs a few of his words. He offers Michael a sly grin. His heart skips a beat when Michael grins back and he realises he really, _really_ needs a bottle of water.

> _Jeremy has unintentionally gravitated towards Michael. Their thighs brush against each other every time they move._
> 
> _Eight._

“Aw, c'mon dude. This is our only chance to learn about all of your freaky kinks. And who cares if someone ends up finding out that you want to fuck them. Hell, it might even end up getting you laid!”

“It also might get me a broken nose, Michael. No thanks.”

Gavin tries to jump in. “I don’t think I could do it either-” Michael cuts him off.

“-No Jeremy, look at it this way. One out of ten times you get punched? But three times out of ten times you get laid. Those are some good fucking odds, it's worth the broken nose.”

“Michael, we're not all masochist’s like you dude. I think the threat of a broken nose would put me out of the mood for sure,”

> _Michael has an empty shot glass in his hand. Jeremy plucks it from his grip._
> 
> _Nine._ _  
> _

“Fuck you, I’m not a damn masochist, I just know good odds when I see them.”

“Odds that you made up.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “They’re still good odds!” He pours another shot for the both of them. Jeremy just stares at it.

He wonders if Michael would still be fine with him taking the million dollars if he knew that he was the object of Jeremy’s desire most days. That would definitely change things between them. _“Hey pal, you look good today. So much so that I’d love to have you pin me up against my bedroom wall as you fuck me senseless. Wanna record some GTA?”_ Yeah, cause that wouldn’t get him a broken nose at all.

_Not_.

“So you’d take it, Michael?” Ryan asks.

Michael meets Jeremy’s gaze, and holding his stare, he takes the shot that’s sitting in front of him. Jeremy begrudgingly does the same with his. They’re only making things worse.

“Hell yeah, I would,” he replies.

Jeremy can’t help but spit back, “You’re a fucking liar, Michael, I’m calling you out. You’re bluffing.” He pushes, because he can and because Michael refuses to look away from him. “I’ll give you two hundred bucks if you say every sexual fantasy you have for a whole week. Eat your fucking words, Michael Jones.”

“Deal.”

> _Jeremy extends his hand. Michael grips it tight and shakes._
> 
> _Ten._

Michael licks his lips and Jeremy realises he’s made a mistake a second too late. He can practically hear the blood rushing in his ears.

“I really want to suck you off right now, Lil J.”

Jeremy’s never had a heart attack before. He’s also never had a panic attack before on a live podcast. He has now. Michael’s words take a second to register, but when they do, all of the air in Jeremy’s lungs completely disappear. Gavin laughs, an awkward and uncomfortable sound that’s clearly him trying to play of Michael’s words as a joke. Ryan looks taken aback as if Michael’s just proven to him that God is real and he smokes weed behind the local laundromat.

(A reminder: Jeremy Dooley is currently drunk, has the world's biggest crush on Michael Jones and would very much like to get a blow job from his best friend. He is also an idiot. So when he replies, maybe his response is just a little too honest. Maybe.)

Definitely.

“F-fuck, Michael. I-I mean, I’d like that too, man, but we’re currently doing a live podcast. Now’s probably not the best time, dude.” Gavin splutters in response, Ryan leans back in his seat and Michael’s grin turns feral.

> _Michael’s fingers move to enclose around his bicep, squeezing it gently._
> 
> _Eleven._

He leans in close. Close enough so that their microphones can’t pick up on the sound of his voice. He whispers in Jeremy’s ear and Jeremy shudders at the feeling of Michael’s hot breath on his neck.

“I can be quick, Jeremy. They won't even notice a thing. Broadcast can keep the cameras on Ryan and Gavin, and as long as you keep quiet, we can have a little bit of fun on our side of the table.”

The way Jeremy flushes red at Michael’s words lets Gavin and Ryan know just how horrible Michael is being- absolutely horrible, rude even. Jeremy has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning.

Ryan takes pity on him. “Alright, I think that’s enough alcohol for you two assholes. Should we- we should get them some water. Broadcast! Are there a few water bottles floating around back there? Something to help sober these two up?”

So does Gavin. “Michael, c’mon. Stop fucking with Lil J, yeah? D-don’t push things too far, you bloody mong.”

Michael doesn’t move. Jeremy doesn’t breathe.

“Actually. You’re _not_ the quiet type, are you Jeremy? I bet you’re loud. I bet that if I played my cards right, I could make you scream.” Jeremy’s eyes flutter shut. He really needs to leave, this is _dangerous_. This is almost _cruel_. “And you would beg for me, wouldn’t you Lil J? If I asked you too? _Fuck_ , now that I think about it, I _really_ want to hear you beg, Jeremy.”

He’s pushing himself out of his seat before he realises it, muttering a low, “ _You’re an asshole_ ,” for Michael’s ears only before he’s making his way off set. He ditches his mic, ignoring Gavin’s voice calling for him to come back and then he’s out in the parking lot- _before_ it even registers in his mind that this is where his feet were taking him.

He doesn’t know when he slipped up.

There was a moment. There _has_ to be a moment. Where he’s stared at Michael a little bit too long. Where he’s touched the other man a bit too much. Where he’s smiled a little too brightly. Where he’s agreed with Michael a little too eagerly. Where he’s made his feelings way too obvious. There was a moment, and now Michael’s mocking him for it.

“ _I bet you're loud._ _I could make you scream._ I _want to hear you beg, Jeremy._ ”

aka

_“I know you like me. Well, that’s fucking embarrassing for you Jeremy because there's no way I like you back; so I’m going to humiliate you in front of everyone just so you get it through your head.”_

His breathing is a little too shaky and his fingernails are digging into his palms, but he’s okay. He’s okay. Leaving was stupid. Leaving was overacting, but it's not the end of the world. He can go back to set, he can make up a shitty excuse and slot back into the conversation. He can get over his stupid crush on Michael. He can fix things.

He can, he can, he _can’t_.

_Fuck_.

A pitiful noise slips past his lips, something between a whimper and sob, and Jeremy forces himself to suck in a harsh breath. He forces himself because right now the only thing he wants is for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He doesn’t want to breathe. He doesn’t want to be at work. He doesn’t want to meet Michael’s gaze later and let the other man know just how much he’s destroyed him. How much it hurts to know that he’s gone and fucked things up. That he was the one that ruined things. It was him. It was him. _It was_ -

The side door swings open at the same time Jeremy realises he’s a second from hyperventilating. He deliberately ducks his head and tries to steady his breathing. A hand touches his arm and he jumps out of his skin.

“Jeremy…”

It's Michael’s voice and he can’t stop another whimper from slipping out of him. He tries to pull away, but Michael’s fingers tighten around his arm and he doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore. He’s not going to look at Michael, it doesn’t matter how many times the other man tries to get him too.

> _Michael’s hold on his arm is warm and gentle. Jeremy wants to shake it off._
> 
> _Twelve._

“S-sorry. S-shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, but it doesn’t matter what he says. He’s shaking apart in the parking lot while his crush watches him- he’s fucking hit rock bottom. “You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to find out- _s-shit_ \- I wasn’t going to tell you, Michael. Fucking hell, I’ve ruined _everything_.”

Michael will tell them. He will. He’s going to walk back into the main room- with a smug smile on his face- and boast to Gavin, to Ryan _\- to anyone that will listen_ \- about how he’s broken Jeremy. He will.

(A small voice- a _tiny_ voice- tries to remind him that Michael’s not that cruel. That he wouldn’t go that far. That his own paranoia is painting the other man worse than he is.)

(But, that voice is ignored.)

“Jeremy, _shit_ , it's okay. You need to calm down for me, buddy. I’m a fucking asshole, I shouldn’t have-” he tries to twist Jeremy around to face him, but Jeremy deliberately keeps his head down-” I shouldn’t have done that- _fuck_ \- I know that now, but you need to take a deep breath for me. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, this is all on me, so you don’t need to apologise. C’mon Jeremy, _please_.”

Jeremy doesn’t bother responding. Michael’s grip loosens on his arm and instead moves to his shoulder. He tugs and Jeremy ever so slowly gives in, letting himself be pulled against Michael’s chest. His face is hidden, his eyes are glassy and he’s exhausted, but Michael’s presence still manages to ground him just a bit. Even if the man is giving him whiplash.

The thing is, he doesn’t understand what Michael’s _doing_. Is he playing the long game? Is he letting Jeremy get comfortable, letting him lower his guard just so he can throw his feelings back in his face later? Is he feeling guilty now that he can see how pathetic Jeremy is?

It's probably easier not to think about it.

“I wasn’t going to do a-anything about it, Michael- I _promise_. Didn’t want to- didn’t want to make things _awkward-_ didn’t want to screw things up, but I guess it's too late for that. I thought I was doing a good job at p-pretending,” he hisses, “but who am I kidding, I’m just a _fucking idiot_.”

Michael tenses. “What?” he asks and Jeremy sucks in a small breath. “What are you talking about? What do you mean it's your- Jeremy, this _isn’t_ your fault. I pushed you too far, said some stupid things and made you way too uncomfortable. I should have listened to Gavin, but I didn’t and I’m sorry, Lil J.”

There’s a tense moment of silence after Michael finishes talking. The panic that’s running through Jeremy’s veins dissipates for a moment, but then it's back full force. Michael doesn’t know? If Michael doesn’t know, then he mustn’t have been deliberately humiliating him. And if he wasn’t saying those things to be cruel, then…

_Oh_.

“Jeremy?” Michael begins, “what do you mean I ‘ _wasn’t supposed to know’_? W-why do you think you’ve ruined everything?”

Jeremy lets himself be selfish for a few moments. He lets himself stay pressed up against Michael’s chest and he lets himself pretend that maybe Michael has a crush on him too. That it wasn’t just playful teasing that Jeremy completely over-reacted to. For a moment he pretends. And for a moment, it's nice.

Then he pulls away.

He sucks in a deep breath. He blinks away the tears that threaten to fall. He puts on his best smile and meets Michael’s gaze. Maybe it shouldn’t affect him this much, maybe he’s making a big deal out of nothing since Jeremy’s been rejected before. He’s asked people out on dates before and been turned down. He’s endured. He’s moved on.

But this is different. _Michael_ is different.

Maybe its because they work together. Maybe its because they’re friends. Maybe it's because this hasn’t been ‘just a crush’ for at least a year now, and Jeremy’s been lying to himself if he still believes that this- this _infatuation_ with Michael Jones- is simply an innocent crush.

It's not.

He lets out the breath he’s holding. “Because I think I’m in love with you Michael. And… and I think I need to go home early today. Please let Geoff know that I’m sorry and I’ll be back on Monday. Excuse me.”

He doesn’t wait for Michael’s reaction. He doesn’t let himself entertain the idea that Michael will chase after him. He just skirts around the other man and quickly speeds walks back into the building, through the hallways and back into the main room. Gavin is sitting at his desk when he walks in, and he looks up when Jeremy enters the room, but Jeremy just doesn’t spare him a glance. Instead, Jeremy just grabs his backpack from where it's sitting beside his desk and leaves the office without a word, desperately trying to hide the way his hands are shaking.

It's only when he’s climbing into the front seat of his car that he finally lets himself start to break down. The wave of self-loathing comes partnered with a strangled gasp and he doesn't bother fighting it. He's got the rest of the day to wallow in his pity and once he gets home, he can crawl beneath his covers and block out the rest of the world.

And then after the weekend, he’ll come back to work. He won't hide from Michael forever. That’s not really an option. He’ll get over his stupid _‘crush’_ sooner or later. He’ll be able to look Michael in the eyes one day without all of the air in his lungs disappearing.

He looks forward to that day.  


	2. Chapter 2

Jeremy leans his head back against the seat, sighing softly.

To be honest- as much as he hates to admit it- he's _way_ too drunk to drive himself home right now. He’s going to have to ask someone else to do it. He's going to have to walk back inside and find Matt, or Trevor, or Mica, and explain to them why he's going home early. It's not _that_ big of a deal since with Friday comes Off Topic and with Off Topic comes the threat of alcohol poisoning putting a real damper on video plans.

The real problem though is going back inside and possibly seeing Michael again.

It's not a risk he wants to take right now, especially since Michael hasn’t followed him outside. Technically he should be glad, but really the thought just makes him sick. This isn’t like in the movies. This isn’t like something out of a romance novel. Michael’s not going to chase after him just so they can kiss in the parking lot and the realisation hits him hard.

 _Michael really doesn’t love him back_.

His fingers tremble. His eyes squeeze shut. His sucks in a breath, and then another, and then another, and then someone knocks on his window, making him jump. He hurriedly moves to swipe away the unshed tears in his eyes, praying that they aren’t too bloodshot before he moves to wind down his window. Nobody really needs to know that he’s on the verge of tears, even if it is pretty obvious. When he catches sight of Gavin’s face staring back at him though, the little bit of traitorous hope that has blossomed within his chest is quickly stamped out. Michael’s not going to follow him. It's probably for the better.

Gavin crouches down slightly, enough so he can meet Jeremy’s eyes. “Lil J, are you okay Lil J?” he asks, and when Jeremy nods back, he frowns. “Michael won’t tell me what’s going on, Jeremy. You storm off of set, and then Michael chases after you, and now you’re hiding in your car while Michael is bloody sulking at his damned desk!”

“I’m not hiding,” Jeremy mumbles, but Gavin doesn’t look like he believes him for even a second.

“What’s going on,” he presses. _I’m an idiot_ , Jeremy wants to say back, but he doesn’t. That will only instigate more questions from Gavin and Jeremy’s not in the mood. Instead, he just shakes his head and Gavin sighs. “Did Michael do something wrong? I know he was being a bloody bastard on set, did he say something to upset you?”

“No, Gav.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not asking you too,” he replies and Gavin groans. He’s probably going to get a no in return, but Jeremy can’t help but ask. “Gav, can you go get Trevor for me and tell him to come here?”

“Jeremy…”

“Please?” he pleads and Gavin holds his gaze. He needs Gavin to say yes, he needs Gavin to give him an out. He can’t go back inside. He _can’t_.

“Why do you need him?” he asks and Jeremy doesn’t understand why Gavin cares so much. If he keeps pushing, Jeremy’s going to slip up and then Gavin will side with Michael, _obviously_ , and Jeremy doesn’t want to deal with that today. He doesn’t want Gavin to know that he stupidly and selfishly fell in love with his best friend. He doesn’t want to have that moment of awkward silence where Gavin realises that Jeremy’s hiding- and he _is_ hiding- is because Michael’s rejected him. That would be _mortifying_.

“I’m too drunk to drive home, Gav. Tell him I’ll give him the money for a cab back to the office, I just really don’t want to leave my car here over the weekend.”

“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on, are you?” he replies and Jeremy can’t help but look away. “Do you not trust me or something, Lil J?” he mumbles. Jeremy snaps his gaze back, shaking his head.

“No! No, that’s not it at all Gav, I just… It’s really nothing, I swear. Things will be back to normal on Monday, you don’t need to worry,” he explains.

“Will it?” he asks and fuck, Jeremy hopes it will. He doesn’t know if he could handle walking back into work on Monday to be met with a cold shoulder from Michael. Videos would be strained and the fans would surely notice, but not only that, it would be all because of Jeremy. If only he’d kept his mouth shut, if only he hadn’t overreacted- but it’s a little too late now.

“Just get Trevor for me, Gavin,” he says and Gavin opens his mouth for a moment, but he seems to think better of himself. He nods sharply, turning on his heel and Jeremy watches him stride back to the office. Being alone again doesn't make him feel any better. It's not going to be easy getting things back to normal. He’s broken the dam, set fire to the forest and now he has to beg Mother Nature for forgiveness. It's not going to be easy, but Jeremy will get over Michael.

He’ll get over him, he’ll find someone else.

He climbs out of the front seat, circling around to the passenger side door. He rests his hip against the warm metal and prays that the next face he sees is Trevor's. He’s known Trevor long enough to know that the other man won't prod him about what's happened. He won't persist. He won't annoy. He’ll climb in the front seat, drive him to his house and then wish him luck. Trevor’s good like that; Trevor's always been the better one out of the two of them.

Jeremy tips his head back and lets his eyes flutter shut. They don't open again until he can hear footsteps pounding against the asphalt.

“Did you piss Gavin off?” Trevor asks. Jeremy shakes his head. “Huh. Well he’s not happy about something and now I have to drive you home early, so you can understand why I-”

“I'm drunk, Trevor. Can we not do this?” He replies and Trevor meets his gaze. Jeremy watches the flicker of understanding spark in Trevor's eyes, and his acceptance is instant.

“Gotcha. Well, get in the car then, dumbass. I have a damn meeting in an hour that I can't miss,” he mutters back, and Jeremy nods. He opens the door. He ducks his head. He counts down the seconds until he’s home again.

Trevor happily drives him home in silence, and Jeremy’s grateful for the quiet. He needs a plan, he realises, stuck staring out the window. He needs something solid, something concrete. He needs to find something, or someone, to distract him from Michael’s lips when he talks. He could make a dating profile online. He could go to a bar on the weekend and find someone else, find a pretty girl with a smile brighter than Michael's; or a handsome man with long fingers that make him forget all about Michael’s. He could, but something tells him it's not going to be that easy.

They're halfway to his house when Trevor finally decides to break the silence. “So, should I be worried, or...?” He asks and as much as Jeremy wants to say no, he can't quite get the word out.

“I don't know,” he mumbles.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is getting quieter by the second. “I- I _don't_ _know_.”

“Okay.” There's a moment of silence, and then Trevor talks again. “Do you want me to stay with you for a bit? That meeting isn't really that important, Jeremy. If you need me to-”

“No, no it's fine, Trevor,” he cuts him off. He's not going to pull Trevor into this mess. “All I’m going to do is crash, dude. See if I can sleep this off, preemptively stave off tomorrow's impending hangover. You get back to work, don't get fired cause of me.”

It's easy to avoid Trevor’s gaze when the other man has to focus on driving and Jeremy lets his head flop against his shoulder, going back to staring absentmindedly out the window. Trevor lets the subject drop, even if Jeremy can tell that he doesn’t particularly want to. His mind wanders back to Michael, as it usually does most days, and Jeremy can't help but wonder what he’s doing. Gavin said he was sulking, but why? Is he upset that Jeremy’s complicated things between them? Is he angry at him? Is Gavin exaggerating?

Part of him wants to ask Trevor to turn around, to drive back to the office so he can meet his problem head on. But that part of him is an idiot, and no way in hell is Jeremy going to waste Trevor's time again. He’s going home. He’ll come back on Monday. He’ll deal with things then. Michael can wait.

It doesn't take that long thereafter before Trevor’s pulling to a stop in Jeremy’s driveway. There's a moment of awkward silence, and Jeremy can tell that Trevor wants to ask him what's going on, but instead, he just shifts to unlock the car door before climbing out. Jeremy mimics his movement, and then they're just left staring at each other over the roof of the car.

“If you need me, just text, alright?” Trevor offers, and Jeremy nods. He won't text.

“I’ll be fine, Trev. Here-” he shoves his hand into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet- “have some money for a cab-”

Trevor shakes his head. “I don't need it.”

“Don't be an idiot,” He persists, pulling out a couple of twenties. He waves them in the air at Trevor, who just stares at them with an unimpressed glare.

“Put them back in your wallet, asshole. I don't need ‘em.”

Jeremy sighs. “You suck,” he replies, but he listens anyway. He’ll probably just leave them on Trevor’s desk on Monday, that way the other man won’t be able to complain. But for now, he tucks his wallet back into the back pocket of his jeans as Trevor pulls out his phone, glancing down at the screen.

“I called for a cab before I came out to see you,” Trevor mumbles, letting out a sigh, “I gave them your address, I hoped that by the time we got here...”

“Now that was your first mistake,” Jeremy replies, shuffling over to lean against Trevor’s side of the car. He lets his head thump back against the metal and Trevor rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he bites back, but there's no malice in it. Jeremy grins back at him. “They shouldn’t be _too_ much longer. Hopefully,” he says and Jeremy nods.

“You’ll get back in time for your meeting, don't worry big guy. What’s on the agenda this week?” He asks and Trevor sighs.

“Nothing spectacular, I’m sure. We’ll probably talk about videos schedules and what not.”

“Ah. Sounds lame.”

“Cause it is,” Trevor replies and Jeremy snorts. They’re quiet for a moment, so of course, Trevor has to ruin it. “So, what happened between you and Michael?” He asks and Jeremy feels his heart skip a beat.

“W-what?” He stutters, but Trevor doesn't miss a beat.

“Gavin’s in a mood, you’re obviously upset and I _was_ watching the stream, Jeremy. Something happened between you and Michael, so what’s up?”

“Nothing,” he replies instantly, almost as if he’s just broken the vase in the living room and Trevor is his dad coming to investigate. Trevor levels him with a disbelieving look and Jeremy honestly feels twelve again. He wants Trevor to drop the subject. He wants to go inside and climb underneath his sheets.

 _He wants Michael to love him back_.

 _Fuck_.

“I think I screwed up big time, Trevor,” he mumbles and Trevor snaps his gaze back to Jeremy. He must sound pretty pathetic because Trevor grips his shoulder and leans in close. Jeremy finds himself leaning into the touch.

“It can't be that bad, bud. What happened? C’mon, talk to me.” Jeremy scrunches up his face, gritting his teeth together. God, why is he such an _idiot_? Why did he have to _fucking_ ruin _everything_? And now even Trevor is worried about him.

He can't do _anything fucking right_.

He rips himself away from Trevor’s touch- almost as if it burns- and takes a few steps back. His hands are shaking, _again_. His breath is uneven, _again_. Everything’s just a bit too much and he can't quite handle Trevor’s piercing gaze right now.

“Ask _Michael_ ,” he practically hisses and he can instantly feel the guilt settling in his stomach for taking it out on Trevor, but he can't do this anymore. “I’m going inside. I’m sorry, I’m sorry but I don't want- I’ll see you on Monday,” he finishes lamely, stumbling back a few steps before spinning on his heel and speed walking towards the front door. He catches the sound of Trevor calling out to him and the sound of a car pulling to a stop on the sidewalk, but then the front door slips closed and Jeremy can breathe again.

He locks it behind him and then sheds his jacket, leaving it discarded on the kitchen bench. He moves through his house until he's climbing underneath his sheets, eyes forced to slowly adjust to the darkness. He can't get the thought of Michael out of his mind; he can't get past the thought that Michael doesn't want him back.

It’s honestly aggravating because Jeremy wants to forget. He wants to put today out of his mind, he wants to walk back into work on Monday with a grin and an abstinence of that godforsaken crush he has on Michael Jones. But he knows, he's smart enough to understand that it's not that easy. It’ll be a two person game on Monday. If Michael can't keep up the illusion that they're fine, then Jeremy will crumble into dust. He’ll fall- technically he’s _already_ fallen- but he’ll do it again because they’ll be no point in trying to pretend that he's fine if Michael can't even meet his gaze.

As much as he wants things to go back to normal on Monday- just like he’s been promising everyone- part of him is terrified that it won’t, and that’s enough to make the pinpricks of tears build up in his eyes.

He doesn't bother trying to hold it in now that it's just him and his thoughts. Nobody is around to judge him for crying over a boy, even if that boy is someone that Jeremy’s looked up to for years. Even if that boy is someone Jeremy never thought he’d be able to call a ‘friend’, let alone his best friend. And even if this whole situation is his own goddamn fault.

It's just him, his thoughts and a whole lot of self-loathing. He squeezes his eyes shut. He buries his face in his pillow. He tries to fall asleep.

He gets woken up four hours later by a text message.

It's hard to snap himself out of sleep mode at first, so for few moments he just lies there with his face pressed into his pillow. He wonders if it's Trevor checking up on him, or if it's Gavin pestering him with questions about what's going on. Or maybe it's Geoff, texting to let him know not to bother coming in on Monday, or any day after that really.

The last one's a bit of a stretch. Geoff’s not going to fire him just because he fell for his coworker like an idiot. At least, he hopes not.

Jeremy knows that if it came down to it, Geoff would take Michael’s side without a second of hesitation; And when he thinks about it, every one of the guys would probably do the same. Gavin isn't even a question, Ryan’s known Michael for longer anyway and it's the same for Jack. Sure; Jeremy fits in with the guys perfectly, seamlessly; he’s made a home for himself in the crew- but he’s not the favourite.

He's half tempted to just ignore it. To roll back over and fall asleep again, or climb out from underneath the covers and go cook something for dinner. But he doesn’t. He rolls over. He grapples for his phone in the dark and he catches sight of the name _Michael_ on his screen.

His brain short circuits when he reads the text.

 _“I just imagined you bouncing on my cock. I’d bet you’d look beautiful all flushed with your head tipped back, Jeremy; moaning like a whore as you fuck yourself on me.”_   


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn’t answer Michael back straight away.

He tries, he _really really_ does try. He spends fifteen minutes typing out his answer, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts before he ultimately just gives up. The thing is, he doesn’t understand what Michael expects back from him? A joke? An apology? A sext? It’s too dangerous to let himself believe that there’s any semblance of honesty in his message, so Jeremy puts that thought out of his mind straight away. Which means that all he’s left with is that foggy cloud of confusion, where he feels likes he’s missing out on something and it’s all Michael’s fault.

So, his phone ends up being discarded on his bed and Jeremy ends up pacing around his kitchen, eating grapes two at a time because he’s _way_ too jittery to ever think about cooking something for dinner. Every few moments he’ll stop, hesitate and consider grabbing for his phone again, but then the feeling disappears within an instant and he’s back to pacing again.

The rest of his night ends up wasted. It’s too hard to concentrate on anything else. His mind keeps flickering back to the mental image that Michael’s given him and it’s like a double-edged sword. Every time he lets himself think about Michael’s message- every time he lets his thoughts drift away- a mixture of anxiety and arousal will settle low in his stomach; it gives him whiplash.

Turns out, it’s actually pretty hard to jack off when you’re on the edge of a panic attack.  
  
In the end, he plays Skyrim until 1 o’clock in the morning and then passes out on his bed. His phone lies discarded somewhere in the sheets and Michael’s text goes unanswered.  
  
He just can’t seem to find the right words.

He wakes up around noon, and it's partly because of his late night and partly because waking up means having to acknowledge his problems. It’s so much easier to play pretend. It's so much easier to ignore the sexually charged message that's on his phone. He can pretend that everything is fine; he can ignore the fact that he _really_ wants to Michael to fuck him just like he described.

Or at least, he can _pretend_ that he can.

He only lasts a total of five minutes- and it’s inevitable really- before he ends up giving in, rifling through the sheets to find his phone. After that, it takes ten minutes- ten minutes that are spent yet again typing and retyping out his message- but in the end, he ends up with something legible to send back to Michael.

_“I don't understand what you want from me,”_

It’s nothing special and it takes all of his courage and then some to hit send, but he does it. Jeremy doesn't know what Michael wants, so the best thing he can do is ask- but that doesn't mean it's easy. He waits a minute, and then another and then flops back down onto the bed, clenching his teeth together. He doesn't know how long he can wait for Michael’s reply. He won't survive until Monday, that's for sure because it's only been three minutes and he already feels like dying.  
  
It takes a few tries to convince himself, but he does end up climbing out from underneath the covers. He practically speed-walks to the bathroom, shuffling out of his boxers and climbing into the shower as if someone is chasing him. The water’s nice and he lets it beat against his back, but it does little to wash away the anxiety that's fluttering in his chest. Just messaging Michael has set him on edge and he knows that if he ignores it for long enough, then the feeling will eventually disappear- but that’s not going to be anytime soon and Jeremy needs it gone _now_.

Instead, he focuses on washing himself clean, letting his hands trail down his sides and across his stomach. He pinches some of the hair on his chest between his fingers and frowns, considering for the fortieth time this month if he should shave it all off. He won't, but it doesn’t stop him from considering it. His hands drift lower, fingertips skimming over the meat of his thighs and he involuntarily sucks in a small breath. His eyes slip closed on their own accord and in his mind, it’s Michael hand- not his own.  
  
The mental image in his mind is so much nicer than reality, so Jeremy loses himself in the thought of Michael behind him, with his arms sliding his around his waist and his dick pressing against Jeremy’s ass. Michael’s mouth at his throat, fingers teasing his nipples and a hand on his dick, stroking him slowly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s got off to the thought of his coworker, and it probably won't be the last.

_Fuck._

He keeps his touch light at first because Michael would definitely tease him, he’s sure of that. He’d make sure to keep him on the edge for as long as possible; until Jeremy’s nothing but a whimpering mess and the thought makes his hips stutter slightly. He thumbs the tip of his dick, catching the bead of precum that’s formed and the mental image of Michael licking it off of his thumb leaves him gasping. He sticks out his free hand, letting it rest against the glass door of his shower as he increases his pace with a touch of desperation.

Michael’s put an idea into his head that Jeremy can’t seem to shake. He wants to sink down onto Michael’s dick, he wants Michael’s hands to grip at his thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He wants the filthy words and the desperate kisses. He wants, and he wants, and he _wants_ it so much that it’s so hard not to reply back to Michael with something as equally dirty. It's so hard not to beg, and plead and whine for just one night- for just _one night_ so that he can memorise the way Michael’s body moves, memorise the sounds he makes and the way he’ll reduce Jeremy down to nothing but a shaking mess. He wants it burned into his memory. He wants Michael to ruin him.

He just _wants_.

When Jeremy finally comes, it's with a choked moan and the mental image of Michael fucking him hard into the mattress. His hips thrust uselessly a few times and he has to wipe his cum off of the glass shower door, but for a moment the tension in his shoulders has dissipated.

He can’t help but let out a shaky breath as he turns off the water, absentmindedly watching the water drip off his body for a few moments before he steps out. He grabs a towel from the rack and wraps it around his waist, deliberately avoiding his phone. He’s not going to deal with it until he’s dressed and he’s made lunch, or else it’ll be grapes again.

He’s got his pants on and his shirt halfway over his head when the memory of their stupid bet hits him like a freight train and Jeremy lets out a strangled sound.   
  
That’s why Michael texted him that message; he's trying to win the bet.  
  
Something inside of Jeremy kinda collapses in on itself, almost like a vacuum effect and the overwhelming need to sit down overtakes him. It's with uneven steps, but he makes to the kitchen table, slipping down into the chair to rest his face in his hands. His fingers itch to tug at his hair in frustration, but Jeremy ignores it. A numbness settles in his fingers, but Jeremy ignores it. He sucks in a shallow breath.  
  
It would be so easy to get upset again, to let himself panic and lose himself in the worry- but for some reason, he just can't find the energy in himself to care.  
  
It seems like every little decision, _every_ little choice he makes ends up being the wrong one and he can't catch a break. He sucks in another breath. He lets it out slowly. He lies his hands on the kitchen table and he kinda just… gives in.  
  
If Michael hates him, then so be it.  
  
If Michael can't even muster up the energy to even care about Jeremy’s declaration, then so be it.  
  
If Michael thinks this is all a joke, then Jeremy will walk into work on Monday with a grin on his face because he can't find it in himself to care anymore.

It's a bit easier to focus on finding food for lunch when he doesn’t have to worry about a stupid text message. He makes a sandwich for himself and then eats it without even glancing in the direction of his bedroom. He flicks the TV on and lets reruns play in the background as he reminds himself that Michael’s opinion of him doesn't matter. He considers going to a bar tonight, finding someone else to go home with so he can think of someone else when he masturbates.  
  
He makes it all of twenty minutes before he’s walking to his bedroom and begrudgingly grabbing his phone.  
  
God, he’s so _fucking_ weak-willed when it comes to Michael Jones.  
  
There's a message waiting. Jeremy reminds himself that he doesn't care about what it says; but then again, if he has to remind himself that he doesn’t care, then he's pretty sure he's just lying to himself.

“ _I want my two hundred dollars, your naked ass in my bed and to never have to see that face you gave me yesterday ever again_.”

It’s not arousal that rushes through him after he reads Michael’s text, it’s not anxiety and it’s not happiness. Rather, it’s anger, because Michael is deliberately feeding him a vague answer and Jeremy doesn't want to play this game. Not anymore. He doesn't want to have to decipher Michael texts, doesn't want to have to figure out the hidden meanings behind his words.  
  
He wants Michael to explicitly say if he wants him, or if he doesn't. He doesn't want to play this game, so this time his answer is easy this time.

“ _Yeah, well, I don't want to do this with you. So, goodbye Michael._ ”

He hits send before he can second guess himself too much and then it’s just him again, alone with his thoughts. As easy as it would be to go to a bar right now, just the thought alone sends a spike of panic through him. It feels wrong. He can already tell that having somebody else's hands on him- hands that do not belong to Michael- will make him feel dirty.  
  
He knows it’s stupid. He knows that he doesn’t belong to Michael and that it’s his choice on who gets to touch him and who doesn’t, but it seems a bit too soon for rebound sex. Especially when he’s only just admitted he loves Michael _yesterday_. The bar will have to wait till next weekend, maybe after things have settled down and he can breathe again. Maybe when the image of a stranger touching him doesn't make him fucking gag.  
  
His phone buzzes again in his hand and he almost wants to laugh.

“ _Wait. Jeremy, wait. I’m not trying to be an asshole here.”_

Jeremy‘s reply is practically instantaneous.

_“You’re failing at that, bud.”_

And Michael’s is just as quick.

_“Okay. Alright. Let me start again then, yeah? Can I come over?”_

It takes a moment for Michael’s words to sink in but when they do, Jeremy can’t help but frown. There’s no way he’s letting Michael come over to his apartment, not yet anyway. Whatever he has to say, it can wait until Monday and Jeremy is completely sure about that. As much as he hated it earlier, he knows that he needs this weekend. He needs the break. He’s not quite sure how he’d react if he had to see Michael right now. It probably wouldn’t be good and he tells Michael as much.

_“No. That’s not a good idea, Michael. We can talk on Monday.”_

For a moment, he considers just turning his phone off. Just cutting the conversation off now so that he doesn't have to think about things any longer, but he doesn’t. He waits it out until Michael messages back a few minutes later.

_“I’ve really fucked things up, haven’t I?”_

It’s almost ironic, and Jeremy would laugh if the tone of Michael’s message wasn’t so damn serious. He stares at the screen for a few minutes, just reading and re-reading the words over and over again until they’re burned into his memory. Michael’s trying to take the blame again- the same blame that Jeremy already has claimed and strapped to his back like he’s going camping- but this time, there's no miscommunication happening between them. Michael knows that he’s in love with him, he already knows that it was Jeremy who instigated this whole problem.   
  
So what damage does Michael actually think he’s done?

_“You can’t do much worse than I already have Michael. Look, I’m going to turn off my phone now, Alright? I’ll see you on Monday.”_

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, he just powers down his phone and lets it sit discarded on the kitchen bench. With it off, he can’t help but feel lost. He’s sure he had plans for this weekend before this whole situation happened. He’s sure he was going to do something, but now he can't remember. He’s doomed himself to a weekend of just basking in his own self-pity and nothing about it sounds appealing.  
  
The smart idea would be to turn his phone back on and message Trevor- just to apologise for being such an asshole- but he already knows he's not going to do that. The phone needs to stay off for at least a few hours.   
  
It’s not surprising in the least when he finds himself lying face down on his bed moments later.

He presses his face against the pillow and breathes in, letting the muffled air semi-suffocate him. If he let himself, then Jeremy is sure that he could end up falling asleep right there; it would be so easy to bury himself up in his blankets and hide away from the world until Monday, but he doesn’t want to do that. He wants to be productive, he wants to do something that takes his mind off of Michael.  
  
He wants a distraction.  
  
The idea of driving to the office and working there until late on the videos he missed on Friday pops into his head and Jeremy is climbing off his bed within seconds. He’s already dressed respectively, so he doesn't have to change, but even if he wasn’t, Jeremy is sure that there would be no-one at work on a Saturday anyway. He could probably edit videos in his underwear and nobody would be there to care. He _won't_ , but the idea still makes him smile.  
  
He swipes his phone off of the kitchen bench as a precaution but leaves it off on principle. Work seems like the smart idea. This way at least he won't waste his weekend. It might mean that there are fewer things for him to edit on Monday, but at least he won't get stuck in his own head for two whole days. And at least on Monday, they can film something new. There will always be new games to play and as a result, new things to film, so it’ll be fine.

He’s quick to make his way to the front door. He slips outside. He shuts the door behind him and he catches sight of Michael pacing up and down his driveway.

Michael doesn’t notice him at first, instead, he just keeps moving and it gives Jeremy enough time to watch the other man closely. He’ll take a few steps towards the front door- towards Jeremy with his head hanging low and unintelligible words muttered under his breath- and then, he’ll twist around and march right back to his car, jaw set in a hard line. It’s a repeated process, one that Jeremy watches for a few moments before Michael finally lets out a frustrated sigh and rests his head against the cool metal of his car.  
  
It's an image that feels extremely familiar and Jeremy knows that's because it was him just yesterday. He just doesn’t understand what Michael has to worry about.

“I told you not to come,” he calls out and it’s oddly humorous the way that Michael’s head snaps up and around to look at him. There’s panic in the other man’s eyes- in which Jeremy doesn’t understand- but he decidedly ignores it. He doesn’t care, he reminds himself and while it’s hard, he somehow manages to keep a blank face as he makes his way over to Michael.  
  
“Uh... I don’t- I really don’t think we should let this conversation wait until Monday, Jeremy.” He straightens himself out, and for a moment Jeremy can't help but think he’s there to fight him, but it’s a stupid thought, and there’s no way that Michael's posture reflects the possibility of a fight. Rather, it looks like the reverse, like he’s expecting Jeremy to hit him.

“You come over here just to tell me just how much you want to suck me off?” he replies coolly. “Look, Michael, you know the bet wasn’t to tell me dirty thoughts about myself, right? It was just- it was just the ones _you_ have… but it doesn't matter, you win alright? The two hundred dollars, it’s yours. Go home.”

Michael pauses for a moment. He meets Jeremy’s gaze and his face slowly morphs into a frown. Jeremy tries to ignore the spike of anxiety that builds up in his chest.

“Wait. Do you- do you _really_ think that I was just fucking with you, Jeremy? Th-those are the dirty thoughts _I_ fucking have. It’s you- every scenario is you. On your knees, on your back, with your legs wrapped around my waist, fucking hell, I can’t get you out of my head most days and now you go and tell me that you love me? Yeah, this isn’t waiting until Monday. I’m not waiting another fucking second.”  
  
And then Michael is striding towards him, so fast that Jeremy’s heart jumps. He’s not expecting the kiss, even if in retrospect it was kinda obvious, but Jeremy still melts into Michael’s arms either way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm, we sure are getting there my friends. fyi, next part /should be/ explicit, so just a heads up (& that's only if what i write doesn't sound completely horrible).
> 
> and honestly, all of your comments give me life, so thank you! you're all the reason why im still writing this, so i hope you enjoy this part!

Kissing Michael is honestly nothing like what Jeremy’s ever imagined.

It’s more. It’s _so_ _much_ more and it leaves his head spinning. Michael kisses like a forest fire, scorching hot, deliberately burning his touch into Jeremy’s skin so that the boy will never forget it. The hand that’s curled around the back of his neck and the thumb that’s pressed against the underside of his jaw- the one that Jeremy is sure Michael’s using to catalogue the speed of his pulse- it’s nothing but _maddening_.

When he tries to pull back, Michael follows- chasing after his lips with without a second's pause. When he tries to catch his breath, Michael steals it right back- capturing Jeremy’s bottom lip in between his teeth. When he can't help but let out a low moan in response, Michael growls- running his tongue along the skin to soothe the sting.

Yeah, kissing Michael is so much better than what he imagined.

“ _Fuck_ , make that sound again, Jeremy,” Michael mutters and Jeremy can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Let me breathe then,” he retorts, letting his arms slip from Michael's shoulders to instead let his palms press flat against his chest. He pushes and Michael huffs, but he still manages to get the distance he needs to suck in a harsh breath. It’s weird, having Michael’s unwavering gaze fully glued to him, but what’s even weirder is the way that Michael’s not even trying to hide it. He watches Jeremy try and catch his breath, and yet there’s something in his eyes that makes Jeremy’s heart stutter in his chest.

“So, are you happy now?” he questions and Jeremy tilts his head in confusion, “you’ve had your breath, now let me kiss you again.”

Jeremy shoots him a soft smile. “We should go inside-”

“In a moment,” Michael interrupts and it feels like he’s talking to a petulant child.

“Michael. We _need_ to talk,” he presses and while he hates the way the smile drops off of Michael’s face, what he’s said is true. They need a moment to sort through everything. In particular, Jeremy needs a moment to sort through his thoughts, he needs to catch up with whatever the hell just happened.

Even though what he really wants is for Michael to kiss him _again_.

He takes a step back at the same time that Michael sighs and he can't help but almost jump when Michael grabs his hand. The open displays’ of affection are going to take some getting used to- especially with the way Michael’s fingers interlock with his- but that doesn’t mean it's a bad thing. He must spend a bit too long staring at their hands though because Michael snorts at him and moves to lead him towards the front door.

“C’mon then, the faster we get this done, the faster I get to have you underneath me.”

Jeremy’s face flushes. “Fucking- I don’t put out on the first date, _Michael_ ,” he replies and Michael snorts, “you’re going to have to wait, asshole.”

The look that Michael throws him over his shoulder is skeptical, but the softness in his eyes ruins its effect. “Yeah, we’ll see how long _that_ lasts.”

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, then I won’t let you touch me for a whole damn month,” he spits back and he hates the knowing look in Michael’s eyes.

He pushes past Michael, letting the other man trail after him instead as Jeremy crosses the threshold of his house. Michael’s grip gets tighter on his hand but Jeremy would be lying if he said that he hated the feeling. It’s easy to lead Michael down the hallway and into his kitchen, but from there Jeremy just kinda forgets himself. His mind blanks and he’s left staring at Michael’s chest for a moment. He can feel Michael’s eyes watching him.

“You alright, Lil J?” he asks, voice low and Jeremy mentally shakes himself out of his daze. He lets out a breath before levelling Michael with a serious look, who in response tilts his head back slightly.

“Yeah- I... You- you kissed me,” he begins, tripping over his words a few times. If texting Michael was bad, then speaking to him in person is going to be _even_ worse.

“That I did,” he replies, “and I’d do it again if you’d let me.”

“Why?” he can’t help but ask and Michael’s eyebrows crinkle up, a confused smile spreading over lips. _Lips,_ that Jeremy just kissed moments ago. Michael grabs for Jeremy’s other hand, advancing on him until his back bumps up against the kitchen counter.

“Because,” he begins, “I’ve waited way too long to be able to do that, Jeremy. Because I want you _just_ as much as you want me, maybe even _more_. Because every time I look at you, my eyes instantly stray towards your lips. Is that enough of an answer for you?” he replies and Jeremy bites at his bottom lip. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Michael.

“Then why didn’t you say so when I told you yesterday? Why didn’t you follow me? Why did you treat this like a fucking game, Michael? A dirty text here and a vague answer there, if you really wanted me so damn bad then why didn't you just say so!” Jeremy huffs. He can’t help but wonder if he should worm his way out of Michael’s arms. He doesn’t want to turn this into an argument, but now that he thinks about it, Michael handled everything in the _worst_ way.

Michael let him feel like shit, Michael let him believe that he fucked everything up between them, so in a way, Jeremy has the _right_ to be annoyed. He’s about to break contact, about to weasel his way out of Michael’s arms, but then Michael ducks his head and presses his face into the crook of Jeremy’s neck, and Jeremy can't help but freeze.

“I wanted to. God, I _really_ fucking wanted to, Jeremy, but I froze. There you were, telling me that you loved me with such a broken look on your face and I just, I couldn’t get the words out. You looked like you were waiting for me to hit you, or yell at you and I didn’t know how to fix things,” he replies, hot breath tickling against the bare skin of Jeremy’s neck, “and then when I went looking for you, after I’d sorted through my thoughts, Gavin told me that you’d left and I thought for sure that I had missed my chance.”

“If you thought you missed your chance, then why did you text me, Michael?” he breathes, subconsciously tilting his head to allow Michael better access to his neck.

“I’m an asshole Jeremy, what did you expect? Even if I had fucked everything up, even if you didn't want me anymore, I still needed you to know that I haven’t jerked off to the thought of anyone else but you for the last four months. I needed you to understand that when I come into work most days, my first thought is of bending you over my desk and fucking you until your legs give out. It was selfish, but I needed you to know that I wanted you, even if I _couldn’t_ have you.”

His words make Jeremy’s breath stutter slightly, lips parting just enough to draw Michael’s eye again. The smug look that flickers over his features would normally piss Jeremy off, and it still does in a way, but right now he’s a little bit too focused on the idea of Michael fucking him in the office. At work. With the threat of the other’s walking in and catching them.

 _Fuck_.

The thought sends shivers running down his spine and heat rushing to his groin.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers and Jeremy’s eyelids flutter a few times as he tries to process Michael's words. He continues, “didn’t handle things the best back there, I know that, but I can make it up to you...” and Jeremy rolls his eyes.

“Mmm... I want a proper date,” he mutters and Michael’s clearly not expecting that because he hesitates for a moment and Jeremy claims the, albeit small, victory. “Take me out on a date, Michael.”

“Now?” he asks and Jeremy shrugs.

“If you want. I'm not doing anything too important right now, my calendar is free,” he responds and Michael shoots him a sly look.

“Huh. Well, you see, I'm a bit busy right now-”

“Really?” Jeremy cuts in and Michael’s grin turns predatory. Jeremy’s mind can't help but flashback to yesterday, to the moment just after Michael agreed to his bet.

 _Oh boy_.

“-Yep. You see, Jeremy, I know this _gorgeous_ guy- and when I say gorgeous I mean absolutely gorgeous, stunning, real model material, better than Ryan really-”

“-Michael”

“ _-and,_ I plan on making good on my threats of making him _scream_ so our little date will have to wait till after,” he remakes and Jeremy honest to God lets out a whine, which only succeeds in making Michael even smugger. He presses himself against Jeremy, pushing Jeremy back against the hard kitchen bench as his hands move to grip at Jeremy’s hips.

“I’ll share a secret with you, Jeremy, just as long as you promise to keep it just between us,” he continues, “I am going to _ruin_ him. I’m going to take him apart with my fingers, with my mouth, with everything I have until he’s nothing but a begging mess. I’m going to make it so good, I swear, Jeremy. And then, I'll take him out on that date, just so I can rub it into everyone else's faces that he’s mine, all _mine_.”

“Y-you're going to kill me,” Jeremy stutters back and Michael’s grin gets even bigger. He knocks his knee against Jeremy's, and when Jeremy lets his legs fall open ever so slightly in response, Michael doesn’t hesitate to grind his knee against Jeremy's crotch.

“God, I hope not, Lil J. We haven't even got to the fun part yet,” he mutters and then he’s quick to attach his lips to Jeremy’s neck, just above his pulse point.

A shudder runs through Jeremy at the action and his breathing is quickly reduced to desperate pants, but Michael doesn't let up. He sucks at Jeremy's neck, every so often grazing his teeth against the soft skin before going back encouraging a dark purple mark to form. It's the threat of a bite though, that makes Jeremy keen loudly, arching his spine and giving an aborted thrust into Michael's knee, which still continues to grind against him.

“What was it you said yesterday, babe? Only people who are in the bedroom with you get to know what you like, huh? Well… I think I just qualified,” Michael says, mouth hovering just above the skin of Jeremy's jaw. He nips at it, short little bites that send pleasure straight towards Jeremy’s dick.

In his mind, Jeremy planned on playing coy. He was going to give it back to Michael just as good as the other man was giving, but he only manages half of his sentence, a shaky, “Y-you’re going to have to-to earn it, Mi-” before Michael’s teeth bite down hard on his neck. The pain is just the right amount of unexpected and sharp, and the moan that tumbles out of Jeremy's mouth is just as bad. It's loud, unabashed and oh so broken that Michael lets out his own breathy, “fuck,” in response.

“O-okay, bites... bites are good,” he breathes and Jeremy tips his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. “Bites are _really_ fucking good,” he continues before dragging his teeth down the newly exposed flesh.

Being pressed against the counter is doing shit for his back and as much as Jeremy wants to keep Michael’s mouth on him, he needs to move. He untangles his arms from around Michael’s neck- how they managed to get there in the first place, Jeremy doesn’t remember, but he doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, he moves them to push at Michael’s hips, trying to get some space between them.

“W-what? W-what’s wrong?” He mumbles, voice just as destroyed as Jeremy’s sure his is, but Jeremy loves the way Michael instantly pulls back just enough to give him space to breathe.

“T-the bench is hurting m-my back,” Jeremy explains, “wanna move.”

The second the words slip past his lips, Michael takes a full step back. He grabs a hold of Jeremy’s thighs and hikes him up until he’s sitting on the bench. He gives him a moment, just enough for Jeremy to desperately wrap his arms around Michael's shoulders and his legs around Michael’s waist- lest he fall on his ass- before Michael lifts him off of the bench and into the air. His hands shoot straight to Jeremy’s ass, an attempt at keeping him from falling now that his feet are fully off the ground.

“Remind me where the bedroom is again,” he mumbles and Jeremy snorts.

“Down the hall to the left, first door,” he replies before letting his head rest against Michael’s collarbone. If he let himself, Jeremy's sure he could just fall asleep the second he hits the mattress. Today has just been a roller coaster of emotions and he's exhausted, but then Michael’s fingers stroke lines up and down his spine as he’s carried to the bedroom, and Jeremy can't help but get lost in the thought of those fingers inside of him.

It's enough to keep him awake for a bit longer.

Michael lowers him onto the bed slowly, but he doesn’t waste a second after that. He covers Jeremy’s body with his own, pinning him to the mattress with his hips and Jeremy can feel Michael’s half hard dick pressing against his thigh.

He waits for a moment, lying there on the bed staring up at Michael, because he’s sure that Michael will make the first move, but he doesn’t. Instead, Michael just stares down at him and there's something soft in his gaze that turns Jeremy's insides into mush, but there's also unmistakable lust mixed in as well. As Michael strips him with his eyes, Jeremy feels himself getting self-conscious.

His mind flashes back to his shower and he can't help but regret not shaving because Michael will take one look at him naked and then he’ll leave. _God_ , Jeremy’s not even sure why he ever thought he even had a chance with-

“-Stop it, Jeremy. I don't know what's going on inside your head right now, but it's obviously not good,” Michael mumbles and Jeremy blinks.

“I don't- I think we should wait,” he tries, dropping his gaze and moving his hands to push at Michael's chest. He wants him off of him, he doesn't want Michael to touch him any longer when he knows he’ll just be disappointed later. When Michael doesn't move, he twists his body, rolling over to the side to try to dislodge the arm that Michael has caging him in.

“Jeremy. Jeremy stop. Calm down- babe, just stop for a moment and talk to me,” he replies, grabbing Jeremy and pressing him back into the mattress, “you don't need to run. Just talk to me.”

“We should- we should wait. I'm not ready yet, Michael.”

“Why aren’t you ready?” He questions, “Look, I'm not going to force you into sex, Jeremy. If you don't want to sleep with me right now, then that's fucking fine. We can just lie together, but I want to know, why aren't you ready?”

Lying there underneath Michael, with that damn heavy gaze refusing to look away from him, Jeremy feels like an idiot. He sucks in a shaky breath and pushes against Michael again, but when he doesn't move, Jeremy realises he's going to have to talk.

“I need to- I need,” he stutters, squeezing his eyes closed, “I need some time to get better, I mean, I need to look better, I need… _fuck_.”

To be honest, if his eyes stay closed, then he doesn't have to see the look that flickers over Michael's features at his words. It’ll be something bad, something Jeremy doesn't want to see and so the darkness is better. He keeps his eyes closed. He waits for Michael to move away. He feels lips press against the corner of his mouth.

“Babe, no. You’re fine, fucking hell, you're gorgeous. I wasn't fucking around earlier, Ryan's a bloody good looking guy and past me would’ve definitely let him fuck me, but you, you’re on a higher tier. You drive me mad, Jeremy, and if for a second you believe that I'm going to be disappointed in you or your body, then you're sorely mistaken, dude,” he replies and Jeremy swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn't open his eyes.

“But I'm fat, hairy and the least a-”

Michael’s hand is quick to cover his mouth, cutting Jeremy off before he can continue to put himself down.

“No. _Stop_. One, fat is not synonymous with unattractive; two, neither is hairy and three, God dammit, I’ll prove it to you just how much I love you and your body. Cause I do, Jeremy, I definitely fucking do,” he growls and then his hands are grabbing for the hem of Jeremy's shirt. They slip underneath the fabric, and Jeremy's stomach tenses the second he feels Michael's touch, but Michael doesn't pause. He runs his hands along his stomach, up to his chest- thumbs briefly brushing over his nipples- before they running back down his sides. His thumbs rub little circles into Jeremy's hips as Michael leans in and litters Jeremy's face with kisses.

“I'm going to _worship_ you tonight, Lil J. No sex, not if you don't want to, but that doesn't mean I can't touch you,” he whispers and Jeremy can feel the warmth of his breath through the thin material of his shirt.

It makes him shiver.

Fuck, Michael is going to _ruin_ him.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (also, do keep in mind though that this is the first time I’ve written smut, so yeah, you’ve been warned.)

Michael starts off slow; torturously slow.  
  
He slides the fabric of Jeremy’s shirt upwards- just enough so it’s bunched up around his throat- and then he leans in, pressing his lips to the warm exposed skin. A kiss, another kiss, another and another; Jeremy loses count with how many Michael peppers onto his skin.

Without his shirt on, the cool air makes his nipples harden and he has to stop himself from pulling it back down in embarrassment. But, if Michael notices the way his face flushes, or the way he squeezes his eyes shut, he doesn’t call him out on it and for that, Jeremy is grateful. Instead, Michael just lets his teeth graze across Jeremy’s skin, pulling a stuttered breath from the lad when his mouth slowly inches closer towards his nipples. The threat is unspoken and Jeremy can’t help but let a low whine slip past his lips in response.  
  
Michael huffs into his skin. “You okay there, bud?” He asks, kissing down the centre of Jeremy’s chest before moving to swirl his tongue around his nipple. Jeremy jolts, back arching as Michael’s hot breath makes him shudder.  
  
“If you need me to stop babe, just say so, yeah?” He mumbles and Jeremy realises that he’s not going to make things easy for him.

“F-fucking asshole, d-don't stop,” he stutters back and he can fucking _feel_ Michael’s smug grin, even if he can't see it.  
  
“Sure thing, Lil J,” he replies, teasing Jeremy’s nipple as he rolls the bud between his teeth. While he doesn’t bite him- and to be honest, Jeremy’s not really sure what he’d actually do if Michael actually did- it’s enough to make him gasp, hips thrusting uselessly into the air.  
  
Michael’s holding his hips away from him, just enough so that Jeremy can’t get any sort of friction and it’s aggravating. He lets his eyes flutter shut, a sigh slipping past his lips because this is honestly something he never thought he’d get. The feeling of having Michael’s mouth on him, of having Michael’s hands on him- and they are on him, as they slid down his sides and grip at his hips firmly- it’s like something out of a dream. Part of him can’t actually believe it’s real, but then Michael pulls back, letting the cold air rush to his sensitive nipple before he flicks it, and then Jeremy realises that dream Michael would probably be more suave.  
  
“Did you- did you just flick my nip, Michael?” he asks, disbelief laced in his tone and Michael bursts out into laughter.  
  
“Shut up- don’t call it that!” he replies, rolling his eyes and ducking his head to press a kiss to Jeremy’s lips, “you’re gonna ruin the fucking mood.”  
  
Jeremy gapes at him. “Me? You’re the one who did it!-”  
  
“It was sexy!”  
  
“In what universe is flicking a nipple sexy?” he yells and Michael grins.  
  
“Porn?”  
  
“Michael…”  
  
He presses another kiss into the corner of Jeremy's mouth. “You telling me that you’re not fucking hard, huh?” he teases, slipping his hand in between their bodies to press against Jeremy’s crotch, who tries not to gasp in response. It’s hard not to react when Michael’s hand is on his dick- which, to be honest, is actually quite hard- so it's a lost cause really.  
  
“T-that wasn’t from you flicking my nipple, Michael,” he stutters, but Michael just ignores him. He moves down to kiss at his jaw, scraping his teeth against the skin and Jeremy waits for a moment, expecting Michael’s hand to move away again. But it doesn’t. Instead, it palms him through his jeans and Jeremy can’t help but moan, his breath stuttering. He tries to buck his hips against Michael’s hand, against trying to get any sort of friction, but Michael presses his free hand against hip to keep him still.  
  
“Eager, are we?” he mumbles, and Jeremy wants to hit him.  
  
“You’re such a fucking a-asshole, Michael,” he replies and it only succeeds in making the other man’s grin wider.  
  
He clicks his tongue. “Nah, I’m not fucking an asshole, not yet Jeremy, but I will,” he replies and honest to God when Jeremy groans again, it's not out of pleasure.  
  
“I hate you,” he says through his laughter, “I hate you so much right now,” and while Michael’s is still touching his dick, it doesn’t stop their laughter from echoing throughout Jeremy’s bedroom.  
  
“You make it too easy, babe,” he whispers and there's so much affection in his tone that Jeremy wants to kiss him again. So he does. He raises his hands from where they’ve made their home in the doona, fisting at the fabric, and instead lets them frame Michael’s face, pulling him back in for another kiss.  
  
“You’re a dork,” he replies and Michael hums.  
  
“Making you feeling better, though, aren't I?” he says and Jeremy’s heart skips a beat.  
  
_Oh._  
  
“You’re too good for me,” he whispers back and Michael shakes his head.  
  
“Nah, I don’t believe that for a second,” he replies and then he sticks his hand down Jeremy’s pants. It’s like whiplash and the thin fabric of his underwear feels like it's both too much protection and not enough the second that Michael’s hand touches his dick. He swears under his breath, unable to decide if he wants Michael to slip his hand under _both_ layers, instead of just one. Michael strokes him once, twice, three times, and while it’s slightly awkward positioning, it still makes Jeremy’s toes curl into the mattress.  
  
“We’ve got a bet, Lil J,” Michael hums, taking the initiative to reposition them. He slips his hand out of Jeremy’s pants and properly moves to unbuckle Jeremy’s jeans. “Me and the others, about who has the biggest dick in the office.”  
  
“-Jesus Christ”  
  
“We all think it’s you-” he tugs the pair of jeans down until they’re low enough for Jeremy to kick off- “well… Geoff’s adamant it’s him, but... it’s Geoff, so he doesn’t fucking count. The thing is though,” he says, levelling the Jeremy with an unreadable look, “I'm not sure if I want to tell them.”  
  
“Selfish,” Jeremy jokes and Michael quirks an eyebrow.  
  
“Fuck yeah, you better believe I am when it comes to you.”  
  
“God, could you be anymore gayer, Michael,” he scoffs and Michael bites at his bottom lip.  
  
“Yeah, I could…” he mumbles, before leaning into to take Jeremy’s other nipple in between his teeth. With Jeremy’s jeans gone, there’s nothing stopping Michael from slipping his hands underneath the fabric and grabbing a hold of Jeremy’s ass, and he does. He pulls them flush against each other and when Michael grinds his hips against Jeremy’s, Jeremy’s reaction is to grab Michael by the belt, fingers working quickly to strip him of his pants.  
  
Michael pulls back slightly, moving to steady Jeremy’s frantic hands as he nips at the skin on his neck. He helps him unbuckle his pants and when they’re open enough, he kicks them off like Jeremy had just moments before.  
  
It’s only when Michael’s hands hesitate around his waist, playing with the fabric of his boxers that Jeremy realises what’s happening.  
  
“Touch me,” he pleads, “for the love of fucking God, touch me, Michael,” and Michael growls, low and rumbling in the back of his throat.  
  
“You sure?” he responds, still not moving his hands and Jeremy thrusts up, rutting against him like a damned teenager.  
  
“Yes,” he hisses and Michael chuckles. There's a wicked grin on his face and Jeremy can feel his own growing warm, so he distracts himself by grabbing for Michael’s shirt. When he tugs at it, Michael follows and he lets him slip the light fabric over his head with ease.  
  
When Michael tries to return the favour, things don’t go as smoothly. The fabric gets caught under his chin and they spend thirty seconds longer than Jeremy would like untangling him from his traitorous clothes.  
  
Michael doesn’t let him wallow in his embarrassment for long though. Instead, he drags Jeremy’s underwear down slowly- pulling it down the curve of his ass when Jeremy lifts his hips to let it slip past- and then suddenly rips it away, discarding the fabric over his shoulder before grabbing Jeremy’s knees to spread his legs apart.  
  
“Yours too,” Jeremy mumbles, breath stuttering at the look that's made its way into Michael’s gaze.  
  
Michael's hands slide up and down his thighs. “In a minute,” he mutters and Jeremy frowns.

To be honest, all Jeremy wants is for Michael to bite him again. He want’s Michael’s teeth to leave little marks on his skin and bruises to litter his neck. He wants Michael to claim him, to own him; he wants to walk into the office on Monday knowing that the hickeys on his neck and the bruises on his thighs are from Michael, from _his_ Michael.  
  
But he’ll settle for getting Michael’s underwear off.

“C’mon, Michael, please,” he begs, giving an aborted thrust into the air when Michael's hand strays a little too close to his dick. Michael hums, and for a moment Jeremy thinks he’s going to level the playing field, but then he ducks his head and takes the tip of Jeremy's dick in between his lips and that idea flies out the window.  
  
Jeremy jolts, a broken moan tumbling from his lips, but Michael doesn't pause. He sucks lightly, swirling his tongue for added measure and Jeremy's hands can't help but grab his hair, tugging at the strands roughly. Michael's groans and the sound travels right through Jeremy's dick, sending pleasure shooting up his spine. He gasps as Michael take more of him into his mouth, desperately trying not to let himself just fuck Michael's mouth, even though mental image makes him whimper.  
  
"M-Michael, p-please..." he begs and Michael pulls back, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He kisses at the skin of Jeremy's thighs, every so often biting down just hard enough to catch Jeremy off guard before soothing the sting with his tongue. It’s a welcomed moment of respite, but it doesn’t last long because then Michael’s hand is back on his dick.  
  
"Gonna fuck you so good, baby," he growls, stroking Jeremy with firm movements that turn him to mush. "Promise. Gonna come on my cock, aren't you babe. Bet you look all pretty when you do, huh. Can't fucking wait, Jeremy," he says and Jeremy’s breath catches.  
  
He momentarily lets his grip loosen, fingers skating along the length of Jeremy’s thigh as he crawls up his body. He kisses him desperately, panting into the younger man's mouth and Jeremy breath is just as heavy. He whimpers when Michael takes him in hand again and Michael moans at the sound, licking his way into Jeremy's mouth. It's not until the second time that Michael brings him to the edge before pulling him back that Jeremy remembers that the other man still has his underwear on and Jeremy instantly wants it off, so much so that he covers Michael's hand with his own and stills his movements.  
  
"B-babe?" he questions and Jeremy tosses his head back, welcoming the moment to breathe. He digs his heels into the mattress and Michael's hand unconsciously moves to grab his thighs, squeezing roughly. Jeremy _almost_ asks him to squeeze tighter; he wants the bruises tomorrow.  
  
"F-for the love of God, Michael. Take off your- take off your underwear please," he demands and the tension that he didn't notice forming in Michael’s frame melts away instantly.  
  
He presses their bodies together- letting his knees take the weight of his body- and removes his boxers until Jeremy can feel the length of Michael's dick pressing against his thigh without any bit of fabric blocking it.  
  
"Fuck me," he says and Michael shakes his head.  
  
"Not yet-"  
  
"Michael."  
  
"-Not yet,” he hisses. His hands move to frame Jeremy’s stomach, thumbs brushing over the skin in measured movements. “Said I was gonna prove how much I love your body, didn’t I?” he says and Jeremy huffs.  
  
“Prove it by f-fucking me into the mattress, Michael,” he retorts and Michael hums.  
  
“Later. I have a better idea.”  
  
Soft lips press against the skin of his stomach and ever so slowly, Michael litters his skin with kisses. In controlled movements, Jeremy experiences first hand what it’s like to be worshipped. Every kiss is deliberate, every bite at his skin is careful, and while Jeremy doesn’t mind being treated rough, the softness of Michael’s actions have him squirming on the sheets. He lets his eyes flutter shut as Michael moves up his body, his breathing evening out as Michael takes his time to explore his body.  
  
“Gorgeous boy. Such a beautiful boy, aren’t you Jeremy?” he mutters, swiping his tongue against the flesh of one of his pecs. “You’re all mine, sweetheart. Gonna treat you so good, I swear. You’re such a good boy for me, all flushed and ready. Maybe I should lick you open, yeah?”  
  
That pulls a ragged moan out of him and Michael hums.  
  
“Fuck you open with my tongue, get you all nice and loose before I fuck your brains out. Pretty boy, are you gonna come on my tongue, Jeremy?” he asks.  
  
“W-wanna come on your cock, Michael,” he slurs back, unintentionally letting on just how much Michael’s words are actually affecting him. He thrusts his hips against Michael’s, groaning when he gets finally the friction he needs. He’s so fucking hard it hurts and Michael’s _not touching him_.  
  
“Oh, of course, you can darling, but you’ll come on my tongue first, yeah? Wanna watch you squirm underneath me, baby- moaning like the whore you are.” He grabs for Jeremy’s hands, pulling them above his head and pinning them there with one hand, “don’t move ‘em, baby,” he smirks, kissing Jeremy for added measure before pulling away again. His hands go back to exploring Jeremy’s body and it’s like torture.  
  
When he drifts down Jeremy's body, it makes everything a thousand times worse. With Michael's mouth so close to his dick, every puff of air or every teasing stroke sends Jeremy mad. Michael mouths at his thighs, sucking purple marks into the soft skin before pulling away and kissing at his hip. He doesn’t seem to care about how much it's affecting Jeremy- and it _is_ affecting Jeremy, it _definitely_ is.  
  
He still has his hands up above his head, which is a miracle really, but everything else about him has shut down, switched off- it's just him and the sensation of Michael’s mouth on him.  
  
“M-Michael,” he whines, high pitched and desperate, “please. I need- I need-”  
  
“What do you- what do you need, babe?” Michael huffs, barely lifting his head enough to meet Jeremy's gaze. His tongue snakes out from between his lips and swipes at the tip of Jeremy's cock.  
  
“You,” he gasps and Michael smiles, humming lowly.  
  
“Roll onto your stomach for me baby,” he prompts and Jeremy lets out a groan, but does it anyway. On his stomach, he can't help but hump against the mattress, but then Michael’s hand grabs his hip and stills him. “Uh uh, not yet Jeremy. Need to know, you clean baby?” He asks and Jeremy nods.  
  
“Took a shower earlier,” he mumbles.  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Jerked off to the thought of you,” he adds and Michael lets out a strangled sound.  
  
“ _Oh god_. W-What did you think of, Jeremy? Tell me.” Hands rub at his ass, squeezing his cheeks and spreading them open. His face turns bright red, feeling hot under Michael's heavy gaze.  
  
“H-how you’d fuck me, Michael. H-how you’d tease me. Press me against the mattress and fuck me until I scream,” he pants, feeling hot breath fanning over his hole. Michael groans, something low and desperate and then he’s licking Jeremy open, who can’t help but cry out.  
  
He’s never been rimmed before, never thought he’d like the sensation of having someone's mouth on his ass, but Michael licks into him with slow languid swipes that send pleasure shooting up his spine and Jeremy doesn’t know why he waited so fucking long to try it. He squirms on the mattress and when Michael chuckles, the sound sends sparks shooting up his spine.  
  
When Michael’s tongue becomes too much to handle, Jeremy whimpers. “ _Please_ , Michael” he pleads and Michael pulls back, letting his teeth sink into the meat of Jeremy’s ass instead, finger brushing over his rim.  
  
“Where’s your lube baby,” he mutters, leaving pretty red marks in Jeremy's skin with his teeth. Each one pulls a shallow, “ah,” out of him and he lets out a pathetic sob when Michael pulls away. A finger pushes against his rim, not enough to press in but the pressure still makes him thrust against the mattress.  
  
“B-bottom d-draw, M-Michael. N-need you- need you please,” he stutters and it’s torture when Michael pulls away completely, crawling over Jeremy’s body to shuffle through the draw.  
  
He considers moving his hands from where Michael’s left them, he considers touching himself- just enough to take the edge away- but he doesn’t trust himself not to just come at the first stroke, so he stays put. It's hard, it’s so hard, but he somehow manages not to hump the mattress like a damned teenager. He waits for Michael to grab the lube and when a cold finger presses against him, he shudders.  
  
“Don’t come,” Michael says, the tone of his voice doesn't leave Jeremy any room to argue and he lets out another sob as Michael works him open. He makes sure to go slowly, and while that's torture for Jeremy's nerves, it's not painful. When he's open enough, Michael slips in another finger, scissoring him open before pressing against his prostate.  
  
Jeremy keens, pleasure sparking through him like white hot fire. “Fuck,” he groans and Michael echoes his sentiment, leaning down to cover Jeremy's body with his own. Michael's erection presses against him and it's intoxicating in itself knowing that he's the reason Michael's hard.  
  
“I can't wait anymore, Jeremy, I can't wait- we've got plenty of time for you to come on my tongue another day, just need to fuck you right now, babe,” he babbles, kissing along the length of Jeremy's spine, who in turn presses his ass back against Michael. The groan he gets in response is amazing.  
  
“Yes, fuck me. Michael, please- need to, need to come,” he whines and Michael thrusts against him, fingers increasing their pace inside of him, “please, now. I'm ready, I'm ready, Michael.”  
  
“God Jeremy, no, not yet babe,” he replies, fingers curling. Jeremy arches his back. “Don't wanna hurt you, don't wanna hurt you,” he mutters, letting his fingers slip free so that he can cover them in more lube. When they press back into him, there's three and Jeremy loves how full he fucking feels. Michael makes sure he’s careful, stretching him open for few more moments before Jeremy can't take it anymore.  
  
“It's enough, please,” he slurs and Michael huffs, pressing against Jeremy's prostate once more before pulling out. Stars flash in his vision and he sucks in a breath, letting Michael’s hands roll him onto his back. His cock is flushed red, leaking precum and Michael grabs him by the base, effectively cutting off any chance he has at coming.  
  
“Fucking hell, Jeremy. Gorgeous, you look absolutely amazing right now,” he says and Jeremy feels himself flush under the praise. Michael has that way of getting to him, of finding all of the little things that make him tick and then exploiting them, because surely Michael's noticed how every compliment makes his breath hitch, how every bit of praise makes Jeremy squirm and how every soft look makes Jeremy feel like he's done something good, like he _is_ something good.  
  
He hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper and watches as Michael rolls it onto himself before stroking himself with lube coated fingers. His hand grabs for Jeremy's left leg, hooking it up over his hip and Jeremy hooks his other one over too, pulling Michael closer to him.  
  
“If it hurts-”  
  
“I'll tell you,” he whispers and Michael licks his lips.  
  
“Want this to be good for you, Jeremy,” he says and Jeremy nods.  
  
“It will be, I promise. Hurry up,” he soothes and Michael huffs. He lines himself up and then slowly pushes the head of his cock into Jeremy, whose breath catches in his throat. He won’t lie, it's uncomfortable at first- especially since it's been awhile since Jeremy's been fucked- but he lets himself relax as Michael pauses, giving him a moment to adjust.  
  
“You good, babe?” He mumbles and Jeremy nods, “God, you are fucking perfect, Jeremy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” He starts moving again, thrusting forward until he finally bottoms out. He stills again and Jeremy watches Michael’s eye flutter shut.  
  
After a moment, he asks, “Can I move?” and Jeremy nods, gasping when Michael adopts a slow and steady rhythm.  
  
“God, you look so gorgeous, Jeremy. Taking my cock so good, sweetheart, nice and fucking tight,” He groans and Jeremy realises, in retrospect, that he's probably not going to last that long. With every thrust, Michael takes him apart little by little and Jeremy finally gives in, hands lowering so he can stroke himself. He doesn’t get very far though, because Michael clicks his tongue, knocking Jeremy's hands away as he gives a particularly hard thrust that hits his prostate.  
  
“No,” he hisses, his hands replacing Jeremy's, “you’ll come when I let you,” he growls and Jeremy almost renders Michael's sentence mute, heat pooling in his belly as precum leaks from his cock. Somehow though, he staves off his orgasm, hands fisting in the sheets as Michael strokes him in time with his thrusts. His whole body feels like it's on fire and when Michael leans into kiss his neck, his angle changes and he hits Jeremy's prostate dead on.  
  
“Please Michael, please Michael- I need to, _shit_. I can't- please. It's too much, I need, ah!-” he cries, voice catching when Michael digs the fingernails of his free hand into the meat of his thigh. He shakes underneath Michael as he fucks him, abusing his prostate with every thrust and Jeremy feels tears leak out of the corners of his eyes.  
  
“You gonna come on my cock, babe? Beg for it Jeremy, wanna hear you beg, Lil J.” He demands and Michael’s grip on his hips is punishing and Jeremy's sure he’ll have bruises tomorrow. He _fucking loves it_.  
  
“P-please, please, let me come. Michael-” teeth scrape against the skin of his neck and Jeremy lets out a sob- “'m begging. C-can't, I can't Michael.”  
  
“ _Fucking hell_ , so fucking good, Jeremy. Love you, babe, love you so damn much,” he hisses, hips stuttering as he loses his rhythm. Everything about Michael becomes desperate with a matter of seconds and Jeremy chokes on his moan when Michael bites at his shoulder. “Want you to come on my cock, come on baby. Wanna watch you, Jeremy. So gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he praises and it only takes a few more brutal thrusts before Jeremy cries out, shuddering as Michael strokes him through his orgasm and into the area of overstimulation.

“F-fuck, oh fuck,” Michael stutters, letting out a low ragged groan as he comes, hands falling away from Jeremy's cock to grab for his hips. He lets his head fall forward, resting it against Jeremy’s collarbone, who groans from underneath him. “Love you,” he whispers, dragging his lips gently against Jeremy’s skin. The touch is so soft that it practically tickles and Jeremy hums softly.  
  
They lie there for a moment and the only thing that breaks the silence of the room is their heavy breathing. That is until Jeremy ruins it.

“You’re squishing me,” he mutters and Michael rolls his eyes, slowly pulling out of him and rolling off to the side. He takes the condom off and ties it, dropping it in the trash bin beside Jeremy’s bed. Jeremy doesn’t waste a second, rolling over to press himself up against Michaels side the second he lays back down.  
  
Michael’s fingers trail across the bare skin of his hip and Jeremy sighs, strangely okay with how bare he is in front of Michael. He doesn’t feel the need to grab his shirt and boxers from wherever they’ve been tossed and it’s nice. There no feeling of self-consciousness as Michael watches him and he can’t help but let his eyes flutter shut.

He deliberately doesn’t dwell on the thought though, not wanting to jinx himself.  
  
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Michael asks, his voice low and Jeremy shakes his head, “I wasn’t too rough?”  
  
“Michael, if you didn’t already notice, I'm into rough,” he replies and the fingers trailing across his skin rub small circles into his skin.  
  
“Yeah, I could’ve guessed that, but still, I don’t want to be _too_ rough,” Michael counters and Jeremy smiles. He leans over to press a kiss onto Michael’s stomach and the whole domestic feel that’s settled around them makes him laugh. Lounging together after sex, Michael making sure that he's okay, it's like something out of a dream and he deliberately ignores the funny look that Michael shoots him and instead lets his head flop back against the mattress.  
  
“I’m going to have bruises tomorrow,” he says and he feels Michael tense beside him. He continues talking before Michael can guilt trip himself. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re fucking weird,” he mumbles, but the softness of his tone ruins its effect.  
  
“You wanted to know my kinks,” he replies, glancing at Michael through the corner of his eye, who in turn lifts up his right hand.  
  
“Biting.” He puts down a finger. “Praise.” Another finger. “Dirty talk.” Each one he counts off on his fingers makes Jeremy’s blush grow deeper in embarrassment. “Rimming. Figures, Mister Rimmy Tim-”  
  
“Hey, dickhead, that was your idea,” he defends, pushing himself up onto his elbows and Michael just smirks back at him.  
  
“Edging. Bruises. Jesus Christ, you’re definitely a sub-”  
  
“I’m going to kill you,” he mumbles back, pushing at Michael’s chest, “better yet, I’m never going to let you fuck me again, Michael,” and when Michael opens his mouth again, Jeremy lets out a whine.  
  
“You embarrassed, Lil J?” he teases, and when Jeremy hesitates, the look in Michael’s eyes gets softer, “don’t be. I'm into it just as much as you are, maybe even more,” he replies, hand brushing against Jeremy’s stomach, the muscles involuntarily jumping at the touch. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth, alright? I’ll be back in a second,” he adds, offering Jeremy a small smile before climbing off of the bed.  
  
Jeremy has no shame in watching Michael's ass as he walks away, and when he ducks out of sight, he flops back against the mattress with a sigh. He lies there for a moment, listening to the sound of the tap running and Michael humming from the other room.  
  
“Hey, Michael?” he calls out and he gets a grunt in return. “You still owe me that date, you fucker,” he says and Michael pops his head out, toothpaste smeared around his mouth.  
  
“Uh,” he begins, “can we reschedule? See I’ve got this guy I’m-”  
  
“Michael.”  
  
The asshole just grins. “Heh, yeah Jeremy. You’ll get your date, babe. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replies and while Jeremy rolls his eyes, on the inside his heart flutters inside his chest and he realises that he no longer looks forward to the day he’ll be able to look at Michael without all of the air in his lungs disappearing.  
  
Mainly because he’s pretty sure he’d miss the feeling of suffocating and he can’t help but pray that it’s not another fucking _kink_.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If people want, then I might write an epilogue (I'm thinking their date) for our boys here, but if not, then this might be the end, everyone. 
> 
> I’ve had a hell of a ride writing this fic and I’ve hope you’ve enjoyed reading it, so thank you! Anyway, I hope you enjoy & let me know what you think!!


	6. epilogue

_The first thing Michael does on Monday morning is kiss him._

It’s a whole process, and it’s one that Jeremy only goes along with mainly because when Michael grabs his hand, he kinda forgets for a moment. He forgets about Saturday. He forgets about Friday. Suddenly he’s a few years younger, sitting cross-legged on his bed as he listens to Michael laugh in the newest Minecraft video with his heart jumping in his chest.

God, he never thought he’d get here. Never thought he’d get _this_.

So yeah, he lets Michael lead him out of the main room, through the side office and into the streaming room without complaint. He humours the other man, too caught up in his own mind to really care where Michael’s taking him up until the moment the door swings shut behind him. In an instant, Michael’s mouth is on his, kissing him softly as Jeremy finds himself being pressed back against the door.

> _Michael’s hand cups his jaw, thumb stroking little circles into his skin._
> 
> _One._

When Michael pulls back, Jeremy lets his head flop back against the wooden door. “I’ve been waiting all weekend to do that again,” Michael mumbles and his hands gravitate towards Jeremy’s hips. Hips that are covered in fading purple bruises; bruises that fit the size of Michael’s fingers perfectly. He squeezes. Jeremy’s breath hitches. “You excited for tonight?” he asks and Jeremy nods.

It’s a nervous excitement, but by this point, Jeremy doesn’t really expect anything else, nor does he really care. Michael’s taking him out. “Dinner first, Lil J, and then we can go back to my place and make out like a couple of horny teenagers afterwards,” is how he’d described it on Saturday night, leaning up against his car as they both tried to stave off the impending goodbye.

At the time, he’d laughed, but now, Jeremy can’t wait to curl up on Michael’s couch, pressed up against the other man’s side.

And to be honest, he definitely feels like a teenager right now. With his heart pounding in his chest- having Michael so close, having his full undivided attention on him- Jeremy feels light-headed. _Technically_ , they haven’t actually labelled what they are yet- Jeremy’s too afraid to ask and Michael hasn’t mentioned anything- but in his head, Michael is his boyfriend.

And while he’s sure that if he built up the courage to ask, Michael would happily adopt the label, but then again, it’s only been two? one and a half? a few days since _they_ happened, so Jeremy doesn’t want to push.

 

_The second thing Michael does is ask him about them, almost like he can read Jeremy’s mind, which is a terrifying thought._

Michael watches him for a few moments, letting the air around them settle into a comfortable silence. Jeremy counts down the seconds that they spend just staring each other in his head. He can’t help but wonder if Michael is doing the same thing as him, can’t help but wonder if Michael is cataloguing every little thing about _him_ so that he can remember it later.

Jeremy’s definitely doing it; he’s making a list in his head.

  * One, Michael smells like oranges. He can’t tell if it’s body wash or aftershave, but every time Michael shifts, he catches the scent and it’s _really_ fucking nice.



  * Two, Michael’s eyes are a gorgeous shade of brown. He’s never really thought brown eyes to be all that beautiful before- his own aren’t really that spectacular, if he’s honest- but Michael’s are captivating.



  * Three, all of Michael’s touches are desperate. _Possessive,_ even. There’s a certain edge to them, almost as if he’s afraid that every touch will be his last like Jeremy’s going to deny him the right. He wonders if Michael was this desperate even _before_ Jeremy confessed. The idea seems alien to him.




He makes it to sixty-seven seconds before Michael ducks his head, effectively breaking eye contact. “Hey, about us-” he mumbles and Jeremy goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “Are we- are we keeping this a secret?” he asks, and Jeremy frowns.

“What?” he half mumbles, half whispers and so Michael tries again.

> _Michael grabs his hand, squeezing it gently._
> 
> _Two._

“Jeremy, are we telling people- the guys, the fans- about us?” he asks and Jeremy’s heart skips a beat. _Yes_ , _I want everyone to know that I’m yours and that you’re mine_ is what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat.

He ends up stuttering out, “D-do you want to?” and Michael gnaws at his bottom lip.

“Yeah… I do. I really, really do,” he mutters, voice low. “I won’t if you’d rather keep it a secret, but I would really like to let _everyone_ know that you’re mine,” he replies and Jeremy hesitates.

“A-are you sure?” he asks and Michael is quick to answer.

“Of course I’m sure, Lil J. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeremy deliberately drops his gaze. “What if- what if things don’t work out? What if you change your mind? What if the fans hate that we're together? What if we're rushing into this too soon. Once we tell people, that’s it, Michael. There's no going back, and if you wake up tomorrow and realise that I’m not the one you want, well, then it’s going to be tough to… to clean up the mess we’ve made,” he replies, voice trailing off.

Michael opens his mouth, and it takes him a few moments to string together the right words. “I’m… I’m _not_ going to change my mind, Jeremy. Jesus Christ, I’ve been pining after you for months, so I’m not- I’m not _that_ stupid,” he says and Jeremy glances at him, “look, maybe we don’t tell the fans just yet, maybe we keep our private life out of the public eye for a little while, but I would really like to tell the guys.”

“Are you sure?” he repeats and Michael nods.

“Yeah, I definitely am.”

 

_The third, and final thing Michael does is kiss Jeremy again, this time in front of everyone else._

They walk back into the office holding hands, and when Gavin glances at them, part of Jeremy instantly wants to break the contact.

There’s the urge to pull his hand away from Michael- to stuff his hand back into his pocket and hope that Gavin hasn’t noticed just yet- but he manages to ignore it. Maybe it’s the fear of being teased, maybe it’s the fear that there’ll be disapproval in Gavin’s gaze when he puts two and two together, or maybe it’s just because Jeremy is just scared, because he _is_ scared.

This is a big deal. This is a really fucking _big deal_ and he feels like he’s completely out of his depth.

Yet, when he glances at Michael, all of his panic dissipates in an instant, because Michael is staring at Gavin and Gavin is staring at Michael. And Michael is blushing. And Gavin is smug. There’s an unspoken conversation happening between his boyfriend and Gavin, and Jeremy realises it’s about _him_.

“Bloody- finally!” Gavin exclaims and all eyes in the room shoot to them. Jeremy would normally feel self-conscious, but he can’t get over the fact that a) Michael is blushing (Jeremy honestly can’t remember the last time he saw Michael blush) and b) Michael has talked to Gavin about him, about how much he _likes_ him. That’s- that doesn’t seem real.

Geoff takes one look at them and shrugs, feigning disinterest, but Jeremy catches the small thumbs up that he tosses their way and he can’t help but smile. Jack and Ryan offer their congratulations and Jeremy realises that none of them are really that surprised.

Were they _really_ that obvious?

“You shut the fuck up! You don’t get the right to talk, you’re just as bad as me when it comes to Meg,” Michael hisses and Gavin laughs, loud and boisterous and completely unfazed by Michael’s faux anger. He lets his gaze slide over to Jeremy, who's pretty sure his complexion is just as pink as Michael’s.

“Who confessed first? Was it you or Michael? Why were you pissy on Friday afternoon? C’mon Lil J, give me something!” he pesters and Jeremy huffs a laugh.

“Uh, I did, Gav, and it’s… it’s complicated,” he mutters and Michael ducks his head, leaning in close enough to whisper in Jeremy’s ear.

“Don’t tell him, that fucker will never let me live my stupidity down.” His hot breath makes Jeremy shiver.

Geoff peers at them over the top of his computer screen. “Hey! Keep your hands to yourself, you fuckers. No fucking in the office or you’re fired,” he yells and Michael looks up at him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I make no promises Geoff. I mean c’mon, look at him! He’s fucking gorgeous!” he exclaims, before lowering his voice, just enough so that only Jeremy can hear him, “couldn’t keep my hands off of him even if I wanted too.”

> _Michael kisses him. It steals all of the air from his lungs and makes his head spin._
> 
> _Three._

⊂ ⊃

 

_The first thing Jeremy does on their date is make an absolute fool of himself._

They only make it seven steps into Fogo de Chão before Jeremy manages to stick his foot in his mouth. It’s probably a world record and there’s probably enough people around him to act as his witnesses, so all in all, Jeremy is mortified.

The reservation is under his name, so he leads Michael to the hostess and mutters, “Uh, reservation for Jeremy Dooley.” The hostess, whose name tag reads Abigail, smiles back at him. She’s only doing her job when she replies, but then again Jeremy is utterly hopeless. “Table for two? Perfect! You and your husband can follow me,” she says and Jeremy feels himself flush.

“He’s, uh, he’s… Boyfriend? I-I mean, I’m his b-boyfriend? I- Oh _God_ ,” is what comes out of his mouth and there are a few seconds of awkward silence before Abigail responds.

“Oh- oh sorry! I didn’t mean to assume,” she replies and Jeremy decidedly keeps his mouth shut.

Michael covers for him. “It’s fine, no harm done,” he replies and she nods, bringing them to a stop in front of a table. She leaves them with a menu each and the reassurance that someone will be back to take their order, and the second she’s far enough away Jeremy lets his head thump against the table. He doesn’t need to look at Michael to know he’s grinning.

“I’m boyfriend, am I?” he asks and Jeremy tries to kick him underneath the table. When he fails, he can’t help but let out a sigh.

“I want to die,” he mumbles back and Michael’s laugh would normally be charming if it weren’t for the fact that Jeremy just wants to wallow in his own self-pity right now. He purposely keeps his head down and just lets it rest against the table instead and after a few moments, once Michael's laughter had faded away, he feels a hand grab ahold of his.

> _Michael’s fingers gently tap against the back of his hand._
> 
> _Three._

“You know, you’re pretty damn adorable when you get flustered,”

“Michael…”

“It’s true. You went bright red and I had the sudden urge to just kiss you right there and then. And it’s not that big of a deal Jeremy. Hell, Ryan flubs all the fucking time!” He reassures him and Jeremy lifts his head, just enough to meet Michael’s gaze.

“It’s just… I can't fucking believe that the first time I get to call you my boyfriend, I go and- and fuck it up!” He huffs and Michael frowns, letting out a low hum.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, technically this was the second time,” he replies, “Gavin and the other guys were the first, and you didn't mess that one up. ”

“No, I don’t- I mean, it was the first time I _said_ you were my boyfriend, you know, _out loud_. _To_ someone. Makes it real.” Jeremy mutters, straightening himself out and leaning back against the chair. His fingers absentmindedly fidget with the edge of the menu that sits in front of him.

Michael tilts his head slightly. “Well, how about we try it again. Let's pretend this is the first time, yeah?” he says and Jeremy stares at him. “Who am I?” he asks.

Jeremy swallows. “You’re _my_ boyfriend.”

Michael grins. “Yeah, I am.”

 

_The second thing Jeremy does is make Michael blush again, and he tries not to let the power go to his head._

The question is stuck on the tip of his tongue and he just doesn’t know how to ask it.

It doesn't help that Michael keeps distracting him, mouth settling into a cheeky grin every time he leans across the table to steal a bite of Jeremy’s dessert. He’s sure that Michael doesn’t even care about the food, he just likes the exasperated sigh that slips past Jeremy’s lips in response and the way he has to retaliate every time. By this point in the night, Jeremy’s eaten more of Michael’s molten chocolate cake than he has of his own cheesecake, and it’s all Michael’s damn fault.

“So…” he begins and Michael glances up at him. Jeremy watches Michael lick his lips, and he can’t help but wonder if he’d taste just as sweet as their dessert if he were to kiss him. He’s pretty sure he’ll get to find out later.

“What is it?” he replies and Jeremy somehow manages to swat his hand away when he tries to steal another spoonful.

“Get away, you fucker,” he mumbles and Michael lets out a loud unabashed laugh. He has to mentally shake himself, trying not to let himself get distracted as Michael knocks his foot against his. “Uh, so you and Gavin. You two talked about me, huh?” he asks, “what- what did you say?”

Michael quirks an eyebrow. “All good things,” he shoots back and Jeremy rolls his eyes.

“Asshole.” He leans over and steals a spoonful of Michael’s dessert, which earns him a snort in return.

“Look… I didn’t even really tell him anything to begin with,” he states, tilting his head slightly and Jeremy meets his gaze, “the asshole just guessed and I think… I think I just liked having someone I could be honest with when it came to you.”

“You know, that person could have been me,” he replies and Michael shoots him a wry smile.

“I… to be honest, I thought… I was _convinced_ that you liked Ryan.”

There’s genuine confusion laced in his tone when he replies, “Why would you think that?”

Michael shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I was just convinced that all of your smiles and laughs had to be for him because if they weren’t, then they were meant for me and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” He tries to lean in again, arm extended to steal another bite off of Jeremy’s plate but Jeremy catches his hand.

> _Jeremy lets his thumb rub small circles into Michael’s skin._
> 
> _Two._

“Uh… yeah, they were for you,” he mumbles and he hears Michael suck in a breath, “you know, Michael, I was crushing on you before I even started working at Rooster Teeth. Had it fucking bad, man. Used to- I’d used to get so excited when a new video would come out and you were in it.”

He bites his bottom lip. “Every time you’d laugh my heart would just fucking skip a beat and the first time I met you I was sure I was going to pass out. Every look, every touch, every smile and every laugh; I’m so fucking smitten that it’s embarrassing, Michael. So yeah, of course they were meant for you. They’re always going to be meant for you.”

When he lets go of Michael’s hand, he can’t help but notice the way Michael’s cheeks are stained pink and he’s sure he’s just as flushed. Michael stares back at him, and there’s so much warmth in his eyes that all Jeremy can really do is offer him a shy smile.

“How did I get so _fucking_ lucky,” he mumbles and yeah, Jeremy wonders the same thing.

 

_The third, and final thing Jeremy does is make a fool of himself again, but this time Michael’s right there beside him and it’s okay._

Michael’s hand is warm on his hip as they push their way into his house, both of them grinning like idiots as they cross the threshold. The atmosphere has levelled out; his heart is no longer pounding in his chest and his nervous excitement has turned into a quiet happiness. It’s honestly really nice.

He lets out a soft sigh. “I had fun tonight,” he mumbles as Michael’s arm moves to snake around his stomach. When he’s tugged backwards, he goes without hesitation and he finds himself being pressed back against a warm chest.

“You know, the night's not over yet,” Michael whispers and Jeremy nods slowly. He explicitly remembers that Michael promised him a makeout session, so there’s no way he’s leaving just yet. But, he also knows that if he asked, Michael wouldn’t hesitate to let him stay the night. Jeremy can feel it, both of them already dreading having to say goodbye, but they’ve got work tomorrow morning and Jeremy knows that it would be impossible to leave Michael’s bed come morning time. As much as he hates it, the night is going to have to come to an end sooner or later.

He’s pretty sure that Michael realises the same thing, at the exact same time.

His boyfriend sighs, pressing his face into the crook of Jeremy’s neck. He lets his hot breath fan over the bare skin, and Jeremy can’t help but shiver in response. They’re still just standing in the entryway to Michael’s home, so Jeremy makes the decision to move them. He shuffles forward slowly and when Michael follows, lest he gets left behind, Jeremy leads them to the living room.

His intention is to spin around in Michael's arms. His intention is to slowly manoeuvre them until they’re both sitting on the couch, curled up against each other; his head on Michael’s shoulder or Michael’s head on his, either way, Jeremy doesn’t care. But his eyes are glued to Michael’s and his reaction time is a bit iffy, so when his foot gets caught on the corner of the rug, they both go down like a sack of spuds.

“Fuck! Ah, shit, _sorry_ Michael!” he hisses, sucking in a breath. There’s a dull pain at the back of his head and his tailbone is throbbing, but the worst thing is the heavy feeling of stupidity and guilt that slowly settles in his stomach. Michael pulls back slightly, holding himself up by his hands as he leans over the younger lad and Jeremy waits for him to climb off of him completely.

He doesn’t.

Rather, he shoots Jeremy a lopsided grin that quickly dissolves into giggles and lets his head rest against his shoulder. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” he mumbles, words muffled by Jeremy’s chest and the knot in Jeremy’s stomach loosens exponentially.

“I was aiming for the couch,” he confesses and Michael snorts.

“The floor is just as good, I guess.”

“You’re not going to get off of me, are you?” he asks and the look Michael gives him is answer enough. He watches Michael shift slowly until he’s half lying on top of Jeremy and half on the floor and his face is inches away from his.

“You hurt?” he asks and Jeremy shakes his head.

Michael pauses for a moment. “Do you- do you want to stay the night?” he asks and Jeremy sighs.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispers back and Michael hums.

“But you will.”

“But I will.” And the grin he gets in response is breathtaking.

> _Jeremy closes the distance between them. He kisses Michael and Michael doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back._
> 
> _One._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well my friends, this is it. the final part of this lovely little series. it’s been a wild ride and i’m thankful to all of you that stuck it out and made it to the end with me. thank you to everyone who’s ever left me a nice comment about 321, you guys are amazing and i love you all!!
> 
> so, without further ado, i hope you all enjoyed and please let me know what you think!!!


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